


Just One of those Nights

by FictitiousFanatisch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Feminization, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short One Shot, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictitiousFanatisch/pseuds/FictitiousFanatisch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OTRA. Louis is out for the night and Harry is left to his own devices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One of those Nights

**Author's Note:**

> this is short and shitty. soz.

Tonight, Louis is out. They're on the American leg of the tour and ever since the start Louis has been going to clubs more and more frequently. Harry knows it isn't because he always wants to go out and get drunk and party. Harry knows Louis would always much rather spend a quiet night in with him instead of fraternizing with a bunch of strange girls just so he can uphold his new public image. Harry knows Louis loves him and never lets himself get caught up in all the drama they have to create.

He never ceases to feel lonely without his fiancé, though. Harry seeks comfort and feels his very best when in Louis's presence. Louis is his best friend and has been so for five extensive years. Harry loves to be close to Louis- in every way. So it's just annoying and frankly, unfortunate that he can't always spend their time off together.

Anyway, Harry is in their hotel room all alone tonight, left to his own devices. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, running his hands up and down his hairless thighs. He's just taken a shower, long curly hair still damp at the ends and dripping onto his shoulders.

Harry decides to check his phone, then. He scrolls through the messages Louis sent him earlier in the night, but hasn't seen any response to the last one he sent. Louis must be busy now.

Harry always feels a zing of excitement when Louis leaves him alone on nights like these. He's always been slightly mischievous, and feels no remorse when Louis chooses the night over him.

And yeah - Harry is aware that it isn't necessarily Louis's fault, per say. He just doesn't like feeling this way - like, Louis has abandoned him here with nothing to do. Harry does have people he could hang out with himself. He's got two bandmates and a whole crew of people to chose from. But some part of Harry likes feeling victimized, so he stays put in their room.

He pouts as he scrolls through his Twitter timeline, starts seeing blurry photos of his fiancé and nameless women all sweat slick and clinging to him as if he were the last man on earth. It's not exactly flattering, but Harry can't bring himself to be jealous of them nor spiteful toward Louis. He knows the truth, even if no one else does. It doesn't bother him anymore, it's just. He sort of wishes he could have gone too.

Because on nights like these he just gets - Harry gets needy, okay. He misses his boyfriend and he wants nothing more than to have Louis in his arms. It's been a long day and Harry had been looking forward to spending the evening with Louis but he had to go out; had to leave Harry alone. And even though Harry also knows he doesn't control Louis - knows well enough that Louis can make his own choices and decisions it still makes him feel frustrated. That's all.

So instead, Harry channels that frustration into another feeling.

He promptly stands from the bed, hooks his phone up to charge on the nightstand before walking over to their luggage, piled in disarray in front of the chestnut bureau.

Harry unzips and flips open the suitcase, rummaging through it until he's found the them. The slowly pulls out the dainty lingerie, his breath catching at the sight of it. He takes his time unfolding the silky black negligee, fingertips roaming the sleek texture. He can't help but rub the glossy fabric against his cheek, reveling in the comforting feel of it. He places it on the carpet beside him, before turning back to the case.

Next, Harry unveils a pair of black lace panties, feels his heart skip a beat in his chest when he remembers the night Louis presented them to him, had kissed his neck and told Harry in a low, sultry voice to go try them on for him. He brushes both thumbs over the lightly scratchy fabric, heat rising to his cheeks at the memory.

Lastly, Harry takes a pair of sheer black thigh highs out of his suitcase. He can't help himself at that point and decides - finally - to get dressed.

And Harry doesn't know why it turns him on so much. At first it was something the two of them started experimenting with to spice things up a little in the bedroom. Harry started trying on women's blouses and skinny jeans last year and has since then made - what some might call 'questionable fashion choices'. He's always had a soft spot for more delicate types of styles. He likes them and doesn't hesitate to buy whatever catches his eye - regardless of what others may think. Harry happens to love himself, and loves feeling this way.

He's always gotten pink cheeks at the thought of Louis treating him like a girl - or the way society has deemed to be feminine. Harry likes dressing up for his lover; enjoys it even more so when he dresses up for himself.

On nights like this, Harry feels a jolt of arousal surge through his bones at the thought of treating himself to this. He does a lot from day to day - being in a band and playing the role of international pop sensation ' _Harry Styles_ '. He thinks he deserves a night off, and although he can't have Louis with him right now, that doesn't have to mean a ruined night.

Harry slides the panties up his long pale legs, fits the elastic snugly over his hips. He tucks his cock into the front as well as he can; always struggles to do so considering his size. It's both a blessing and a curse.

Harry puts the stockings on after that, gently tugs them each up one at a time, mindful of the thin material. He knows they tear easily - this is his third pair.

Harry walks back into the bathroom grasping his final piece of lingerie. He watches himself in the mirror as he slips it on over his head, then yanks it down, smoothing it over his torso. It's shimmering against his chest, the thin straps tight against his broad shoulders. Harry thinks that's half the libidinous pleasure he feels when adorning his body like this.

None of his boy parts - the gangly limbs and the stark biceps, the cut jawline, the bollocks and cock - really go with the look. It's so  _wrong_. He couldn't imagine the humiliation he would feel if anyone besides Louis ever saw him this way. He'd be mortified.

And that's what makes this such a guilty pleasure. Harry likes feeling this way. It's only a portion of the eroticism to look at how beautiful his body is. The negligee is obviously made for someone with breasts, and the fabric hangs loose where Harry lacks those assets.

Harry can't help but cup his big hands against his bum, feel the stretch of the elastic around him. He's a big boy - no women's lingerie could ever fully cover him. And since he's added those squats into his gym routine his arse has gotten significantly thicker. He's proud. His hard work has indeed paid off. Louis's never hesitated to prize him on it.

Harry then moves his hands up to his chest, runs his knuckles down his torso. The cool fabric makes his skin prickle with goosebumps. He brings his hand back up, pinches a tight nipple through the material. He shivers, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip with anticipation. He can already feel himself hardening in his panties, the feeling already making his head swarm.

Harry leaves the bathroom then, turns the light out and closes the door before making his way over to the full length mirror mounted on the wall.

Being in their circumstances, they typically stay in higher rated hotels across the globe when they travel on tour. Harry is used to them buying out the top rows of the building; where the largest almost flat like suites are located. Harry has many homes away from home. He's only recently become more comfortable doing this in an environment that isn't home.

And it's only  _usually_  been that way because most of Harry's toys are home. He and Louis don't carry those types of things on the road. It's too risky. They have to keep the things they use for sexual play to a minimum, just in case. That means only essentials, of course - like lube, condoms, Harry's vibrator, Louis's cock ring, etc.

Harry kneels on the carpet in front of the mirror. He sits down on his legs, swallowing thickly at his reflection. He takes in how beautiful his curves and dips look beneath all the lace and sheer. His skin looks as pale as moonlight against the dark black. It's sinful.

Harry starts by smoothing his hands up and down his thighs. He's always been one for sensual touches. He loves it when Louis takes his time to appreciate every inch of Harry's body first with his hands, lips and tongue before doing anything else. Harry thinks about Louis's lips; closes his eyes as he imagines Louis kissing him, sucking on his tongue, nibbling marks into the inside of his thighs -

Harry sighs, moving his hands against the negligee. The fabric feels incredible against his sensitive skin - the glide almost unreal. His hands rub up and down his sides next, pushing the material a little bit higher with each stroke.

He's turning himself on like this, touching his body with such fleeting ministrations. He knows Louis would do the same. Teasing is another one of those things he can't stand his love for. And he hates that he crumbles even when he does it to himself.

Harry runs his fingertips over his shoulders, up to his collarbones, then back down to the waistband of the underwear. It tickles, but it feels nice, so he continues. He draws a circle around his left nipple, pressing his thumb into the hardened nub through the silk. He huffs out through his nose, still biting his lower lip hard to keep from moaning. His body has always been so sensitive and even the smallest touches drive him crazy. Louis loves to drive him crazy.

Harry traces the bands of the thigh highs, feels the roughness beneath his fingertips. His skin is so hot already; cheeks burning from shame at what he's doing to himself. If anyone were to walk in unannounced (which actually happens quite a lot in this band) they'd see him sitting here in front of the full length mirror, teasing himself into desperation.

The thought only makes Harry feel that much hotter. He lets out a soft moan- couldn't keep it in any longer. It's amorous, to hear his own deep voice reverberate against the walls of the room. He's in here all alone, he realizes. And he knew that before, it's just - he hadn't really thought about it. Now it's settling in; the reality that he's doing this all by himself. And it feels wonderful.

He can't help but reach his hand down and cup himself through the lace. He watches his eyelids flutter at the sensation, feels his breathing falter just slightly. Harry slowly rubs his hand against his crotch, shivering with pleasure.

He's always been a slut for slow, sensual sex. He loves fast and rough too, of course, has never complained when Louis's given him a good dicking - but there's just something special, and dirty about laying himself out like this and taking all the time in the world to push himself over the edge that gets him so worked up.

Harry's growing harder steadily. His breathing has started to pick up speed. He pushes his hand down into his panties and takes hold of his cock. He strokes it sweetly, gently, coaxing it to life. When it's firm he trails his hand down further, grazing his index finger over his hole. He clenches instinctively, the cold touch sending shivers down his spine.

It feels good. Harry blinks at the reflection of his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He's already so desperate to be fucked. He doesn't know how much longer he can go without having proper touch.

Harry has no idea when Louis will even be back - has no idea where he is or whether or not he'll feel like fucking him when he gets back. And the thought of being left unattended to tonight is just distressing.

Harry reluctantly takes his hand out of his knickers and stands from where he's been kneeling on the floor. He goes back over to their suitcase and pulls out their bottle of lube. It's at least half full and Harry is glad for that.

He settles back against the headboard, props himself up on two thick hotel pillows to support his head and lower back.

When Harry's comfortable he starts again. He slowly slides the strap of the gown over one shoulder, peeling it down far enough that he can reach his nipple. He rolls it softly between his thumb and forefinger; the feeling traveling straight to his cock. Which is now hard and straining against his panties - head glistening with precome and peeking past the waistband.

Harry glides his hands up and down his torso as he brings his knees up, resting the soles of his feet against the mattress. He does that for another moment, drowning himself in arousal.

He finally relents and reaches over to the bedside table to retrieve the lube.

Harry coats two fingers with the shiny substance, then uses his other hand to pull the panties aside. He takes a moment to rub his fingers and thumb together to warm them up. Then Harry circles his entrance with his first finger, gasping softly. His hole is quivering at the sudden contact - he can feel the muscle fluttering beneath his touch. He applies light pressure to the center, but he doesn't push in just yet. He just wants to tease himself - just a little bit more.

Eventually he slides the finger inside. He groans, can already feel the sweat gathering against his forehead. His thighs are already shaking and he knows if he's this excited he isn't going to last long.

It's not the same as when Louis fingers him. Louis usually fingers him for preparation purposes, and his fingers and smaller and thicker than Harry's. Harry has long arms but it's still a strain to reach. He works up to two fingers, pumping them in and out whilst he writhes. His hole is stretched around them, and it feels so fucking good Harry can't breathe.

"Lou," he chokes, desperately. He wants Louis here right now. He's been in need of his boyfriend all day and he's upset. He's making himself feel good but it's only reminding him that Louis can make him feel even better. Like this, Harry can't even reach his prostate.

His cock is an angry red- stretching upward for attention. Harry rocks his hips up to meet his fingers as his left hand takes a hold of his cock. It's burning, just begging to be touched. Harry wraps his fist around the girth, pumping fast and hard because he knows he's coming close and could probably come like this - just like this.

His own lewd euphoria has taken him so deep he feels like he's losing his mind. The static is already overriding his senses and he can't hear anything, can't see anything, can't feel anything besides the constant ache for release.

The heat coils in his lower belly, the fire flourishes in bones, his thighs tremble, toes curl, back arches as his hand flies over his cock. He flicks his thumb over his head, smearing his precome down his shaft, then shucks his wrist back up, twisting his hand on the glide back down again. And oh- that feels really good.

Harry is sweating and panting- brow furrowed in concentration as he brings himself closer and closer. He's so lost in it; his mind whirring around one thing only - that he doesn't even hear the door open.

"Harry," he hears a moment later.

He jerks, instantly - the heat that had been rushing to his groin rushes to his face instead. He frantically tugs down the hem of his nightie, trying desperately to cover his hard erection.

Harry glances up and sees Louis. He's just standing there across the room, arms folded, hip cocked. He looks intrigued by the sight of his boyfriend in such a state. Harry looks down, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, well, well. What have we here..." Louis hums, pensively. And just like that- they're playing. Harry's blush grows even darker - if it's even possible. He'd been on the brink of orgasm, of course he was red.

Harry doesn't reply. His chest rises and falls so fast, a bead of sweat trickles down his temple, and his cock is throbbing below. His heart is still racing with adrenaline - having thought his life was in danger.

Louis kicks off his shoes as he makes his way over to the bed. Harry gulps when he sees his hard face. Louis is so sexy; always has been. Harry suppresses a moan at the sight of him.

"I texted you. ''Said I was on my way," Louis informs him, glancing to his phone on the night table. Harry bites his lip red. He must have missed that.

A stray piece of Harry's hair falls into his face. He doesn't bother pushing it back - he feels utterly ridiculous under his lover's heated, almost judgmental gaze. He can only imagine the right mess Louis is currently witnessing.

"I guess you were busy," Louis chuckles, as he meanders over to the bathroom. He leaves the light on as he brushes his teeth - to no doubt wash away the stale taste of alcohol that lingers on his tongue.

Harry looks down at his dick between his thighs and winces. He wishes he had the audacity to touch himself while Louis is less than a meter away. He doesn't think the elder would appreciate that very much, though.

Because one thing very peculiar about bedroom Louis is that he gets very jealous very easily. Especially when Harry's having sex with himself. And without notifying him first? Most certainly not.

When Louis reemerges from the ensuite bathroom he strips himself of his shirt. He tosses it onto the floor, then pops the button on his black skinnies, undoes the zip.

Harry watches hungrily as Louis sheds his strong thighs of his tight jeans, then briefs. Louis steps over to the bed, hooks his own phone up to charge before he even gives Harry the light of day. Harry swallows thickly. He knows he's fucked up good.

"Hands and knees," Louis roughly commands, and with a snap of his fingers Harry is there. He's tremulous; elbows wobbling as he exerts himself. He's weary with arousal and can't believe he has to follow orders.

"'Better yet - face down, arse up, come on," Louis tells him, putting pressure down on Harry's shoulders until he gets the message. Harry whimpers as Louis pushes his face into the stale hotel bedlinen.

He feels so exposed this way. Louis can see his panties and his stockings, and if he were to tug Harry's panties to the side he would be able to see the wetness of his stretched hole, could see the way it's red and clenching and just pleading to be fucked.

"Been a bad girl, huh?" Louis asks, caressing the back of Harry's thigh with his hand. He rubs over the soft skin, tenderly, lightly scratching at the material of the stockings to make Harry quiver.

"Yeah," Harry keens, his back arching as far as it will go in this position. He's starving for Louis's touch and pushes back into it. He wants Louis to give him so much more, because even now it's never enough. His craving for his lover will never subside.

"'Playing with yourself while Daddy was gone," Louis tuts, as he kneels on the bed. He slides his hands up to Harry's bum, taking two firm handfuls of the flesh and kneading them. Harry whines into the sheets, closes his eyes at the contact. He can't see Louis dipping down, pressing his face into the material.

"Such a pretty girl," Louis murmurs, his lips against the fabric of Harry's panties. Harry whimpers as Louis mouths over his hole through the lace. Louis runs his hands over his lower back, pushing up the hem of the peignoir to touch his skin.

If Harry thought he was desperate before - it's nothing compared to the way he feels now.

"Please," Harry mumbles, tears forming in his eyes as Louis sucks a bruise into his left arse cheek. His tongue laves over the stinging area, taking his sweet time torturing Harry the way he's most keen to.

Without warning, the sharp smack of Louis's hand against his skin resonates throughout the room. Harry cries out, his body trembling at the impact.

"'Don't be greedy, Baby," Louis chides, soothing over the red handprint with his palm. Harry's eyelashes are cool with tears and his lips hang open in agony. He can't take this teasing anymore. He'll break.

"Daddy," Harry begs, voice muffled against the mattress. He feels sweet relief wash over him when Louis pulls his panties down over the swell of his bum. Louis drags a finger down the cleft of Harry's arse, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. Harry tries his best to keep quiet, but it tickles. It's driving him mad to be so close yet - so fucking far.

Louis starts from Harry's tail bone and strokes the pad of his finger down the crevice. His thumb catches on Harry's entrance; all stretched and pink and slick with lube. He shushes Harry's needy little whimpers as he circles his rim.

Without preamble Louis slides two fingers in up to the knuckle, immediately cooking them upward. He rubs his fingers against Harry's walls and Harry feels it when he just grazes his spot. He groans, fist tightening in the sheets. His cock bobs where it's stood upright between his thighs. He's so uncomfortably turned on at this point - would literally do  _anything_  to earn an orgasm.

"How many fingers did you use, Baby?" Louis inquires, keeping the pressure light on his prostate. There's no way in hell he's going to want Harry to come yet.

"Two," Harry whispers, languidly. He's drunk off of this feeling, words slurring together and muscles loose. He doesn't know how long Louis's going to try to make him last but he's already in the right mindset to take it.

"Hm," Louis kisses the base of Harry's spine as he slips a third in to his heat, then starts scissoring them.

When he's deemed Harry prepared he removes his fingers. Harry is too out of it to notice Louis reaching over to grab the lube. He thinks Louis slips on a condom too somewhere in there. Or maybe not. Harry doesn't even know.

He's quaking against the sheets when Louis settles behind him once more. Louis places a hand on his hip to steady him while his other hand positions his cock at Harry's entrance. He teases his rim for a moment, pushing just the tip of his cock in before pulling back. Harry's so overwhelmed and doesn't even try to stop himself from begging Louis to just, just -  _please_.

Louis smooths his hands over Harry's hips and sides, shushing his pleas. He presses inside slow, and the drag already has Harry keening.

Louis bottoms out and gives Harry a minute to adjust before he starts to move. Harry's lips fall open when he realizes that Louis isn't going to go easy on him whatsoever. He's settled into a punishing pace - unbelievably fast- his hips already slamming against the back of his thighs.

Harry pulls at the sheets as he moans, pushing his arse up even higher in hopes to gain more, more,  _more_  -

Louis holds his hips tightly, is pressing so hard Harry already knows he's leaving dark bruises.

Harry groans softly, his body jolting with every thrust. And he never gets tired of this feeling; being used like this.

He feels so filthy dressed in these women's lingerie with his face crushed into the mattress as Louis has his way with him. This is what makes the endorphins surge through Harry's bloodstream. He's so hard he feels like he's going to burst and if Louis doesn't touch him soon- maybe he will.

" _Daddy_ ," Harry gasps when Louis changes his thrusts from hard and fast to short and quick. He's jabbing Harry's prostate dead on at this angle - and with every flick of his hips Harry feels the intensity of an electric current tearing through his body. The heat is once against coiling in his tummy and he doesn't know how much more he can take.

He clenches his eyes shut - whines high in the back of his throat, almost like a real girl. Louis groans behind him over the lecherous sound of skin against skin. Harry's no better, starts rolling his hips back against his Daddy out of primal need. He needs to come soon; feels like he'll die without release.

"Been such a  _naughty_  girl," Louis fucks forward once, before slapping Harry's right cheek and retracting again. The combination of stimulus is just too much for Harry to process all at once. Harry shudders as Louis's hand comes down hard again, sending sparks of ecstasy up his spine.

"Oh -  _f-fuck_ ," Harry's eyes squeeze shut as Louis's cock drags against his walls - the pressure between his hips slowly increasing. He can't even spread his legs apart because his panties are sitting against his thighs, just below his bum. Louis is fucking him remorselessly, using his body like he's just a rag doll and it's making his head cloudy.

"Daddy - gonna ...  _oh_ ," Harry trembles with his impending orgasm, his thighs shaking and his toes curling in the sheets.

"Such a pretty slut," Louis growls, sharply smacking his arse again. Harry's back arches, tears streaming down his cheeks because he's so  _close_  he just needs to touch his cock and -

"Daddy pl-please, please -" Harry sobs into the mattress, breath punching out of him in short bursts as Louis pounds into him. And Harry's only ever come untouched once before but he really, really thinks he might again.

"Come on, Baby... come on Daddy's cock," Louis coaxes, soothing a hand over the plane of Harry's back in slow circles. He does the same with his hips now; grinding in so  _deep_  -

"I..." Harry trails, losing his thoughts when Louis gives him two quick thrusts while running his hands down the back of his thighs.

"Know you can do it, Baby-girl... come for Daddy," Louis coos, burning Harry's skin under his fingertips. Harry feels Louis right against his sweet spot, rocking forward while he gives him gentle, soothing touches and careful words.

Harry squeaks as the heat of his orgasm curls in his lower belly once again. His eyes clench tight and his lips gape. He shudders through it, muscles tensing, then releasing.

He comes hard, ignored cock twitching against the flat of his tummy as two streams of come pulse from the tip.

Louis pounds into him hard and fast after that. He's already close, and groans as he comes, his voice breaking through it beautifully.

Harry's shaking against the sheets when Louis pulls out. He lays there in a puddle of his own come, sticky, yet - feeling a strange sort of comfort in doing so. His eyelids twitch still, and he licks his lips because they've gone awfully dry.

Louis rolls him over so that he's laying on his back. He hums as he takes in Harry's salacious appearance, running his hand over the flimsy front of Harry's tiny negligee in appreciation. It leaves nothing to the imagination.

Louis smiles, as he lays down on the bed beside him. His eyes scan over Harry's body for a moment. Harry's stockings got disheveled at some point - both having slipped down his legs to rest around his knees. Louis reaches down, tugs them back up and snaps the elastic against Harry's thighs.

Harry watches his fiancé with hooded eyes as Louis pulls his panties back up over his wet cock, tucking him back inside. Then Louis straightens out the fabric of the nightdress, leaving Harry clothed as he was before.

Louis cups his right hand against Harry's cheek and pulls him in closer, catching Harry's lips in a sweet, slow kiss.

Their chests rise and fall sporadically, hands still tremulous and eyes glazed over. Louis smiles at him, brushing his thumb against his cheek.

"'Can't believe how beautiful you are sometimes," he chuckles lowly, leaning back in and kissing Harry's lips gently.

"Love you," Harry mumbles, shuffling closer to bury his face in Louis's neck.

"I love you too, Baby," the older replies, softly. They lay together like that for awhile as their breathing evens out. Harry's eyes drift shut as he starts to relax again, body moulding into Louis's side as it was meant to.

"So what was all this about?" Louis asks, curiously after a while. He's got his fingers threaded through Harry's curls, is lightly scratching at his scalp.

Harry shrugs after a moment, cuddling closer to his lover. He plants a kiss on Louis's bare chest, nose nudging at his sternum.

"Just ... one of those nights," Harry decides, eyes closed.

"Mm. I suppose," Louis sighs.

"'Missed you," Harry says later, when they're both mostly asleep. Louis must hear him, though.

"I know," he replies in the dim lamp light of the hotel room, but behind the dark of his eyelids Harry can almost see the way his lips move to form the words.

And it is sad that they can't always be together. It's sad that Harry has needs Louis can't meet. Harry isn't trying to make Louis feel bad, or guilty for not being there for him. But it's the truth. He sometimes misses Louis so much his heart aches, even though they see each other everyday.

Harry can't explain it. And he hopes one day he won't need to anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. i try my best to contribute to the lack of bottom!harry fics in this fandom.  
> follow me on [tumblr](http://lol----no.tumblr.com).


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